No Rest for the Wicked
by XFauxAfflictionX
Summary: A Sylar/Elle one shot. It goes through a few of Elle's memories with Sylar, and what she was thinking. *Follows the concept of the show, no new characters or concepts*


**No Rest For the Wicked**

A Sylar/Elle One-Shot

The first time Elle Bishop met Sylar, he was trying to kill himself. But he wasn't Sylar then, he was just Gabriel Gray, the son of a watchmaker. He was miserable, pitiful, and he had confided in her because she was convenient. But she couldn't help but think that this dangerous person her father and Noah Bennett kept telling her about wasn't dangerous at all… yet. And the things Noah made her do turned him into that criminal, that monster. True, he had killed Brian Davis, but he felt incredible guilt about it. He had still believed he might be able to repent then, and maybe he could have if she hadn't gotten involved. But of course, the Company Girl did as she was raised to do, and followed orders.

The second time she encountered Gabriel Gray, he never consciously knew she was there. It was the day the Company was turned over to her father, and Elle couldn't have been having a more normal day. Life at the company was, at best, boring. She would wander the cell hall, "playing" with detainees. However, that bored her quickly, so exploring seemed like a good option. She even went where she wasn't supposed to go; level 5, the offices of other company employees, including her former partner, Bennett's. There wasn't anything of great interest, but the thrill of knowing she could get in was enough for her. All her life, she'd been powerless; a Company girl. Always taking orders, always training, always lower in the ranks than someone half as powerful. It was sickening, but she had no choice. She was corralled in this chasm with slick walls. No escape.

But she wouldn't have guessed her escape would come in on a stretcher, bleeding and crying out in agony.

She recognized him the minute they wheeled him in… she would always know that face, the face of a man turned monster. But this time she hardly recognized him. Her guilt shamed her every minute of every day, that moment more than ever. His bleeding chest was proof of her actions, and her breath caught in her throat as three people rushed him toward the medical wing. There was a woman walking steadily behind the gurney, and Elle recognized her as Candice, one of the Company's "them" side of the "us and them" rule. She fought the urge to give her a dirty look.

She felt as though her feet grew roots, gluing her to the spot as the gurney was rushed by. She almost gasped as she got a glimpse at him.

He wasn't awake, not really. His eyes were closed, but they were shut tight in pain. His face was distorted in the most pitiful of grimaces, and he was making small moaning noises; like a dying animal. The Company nurses had removed his shirt, where the wound could easily be seen. There was blood… so much blood. Elle would have usually gagged, but her pity overpowered her disgust. But the one thing that hit her, really hit her like an iron pry bar, was his hand; outstretched and trembling as he reached for someone, anyone to hold him and tell him he'd be okay.

That's when she severed those roots keeping her where she was; standing in the doorway of some random hall, she didn't know which. She leapt forward, taking his hand in hers and following the rushing stretcher. His hand still trembled, and when it grasped hers, it was so weak; like an infant taking a parent's hand. She choked back a tear as she looked at one of the nurses.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice not betraying her sympathy. She had always been taught that feelings get you killed. So she stashed them away… for now. But that didn't mean she couldn't be sympathetic, so she gently ran a hand over his smooth dark hair, pushing it back away from his pained face.

"Run through," the man replied sternly, taking a square of gauze and pressing it firmly on the pencil-thin wound on Gabriel's chest. It immediately soaked with blood.

The sound he made threatened to break Elle's resolve. It was like he tried to scream, but was incapable. His body arched in response to the pain of the pressure, and his hand gripped around hers so tightly that his fingernails almost broke her skin. But she didn't care. Let him hurt her all he wanted, if it helped. She did this to him; turned him into a monster, and that in turn brought him to this. He might still be a miserable watchmaker if she hadn't gone and meddled. Miserable, yes, but not in pain.

The three nurses turned a corner into an operating room, where two surgeons stood ready, facemasks and sterile gloves on. It was then that Elle realized Candice was standing just outside the door, watching and waiting.

"BP 115 over 81, heart rate 127, we need to operate _now_," the nurse said, removing the gauze and replacing it with another.

"Ms. Bishop, you need to leave now," said one of the surgeons, obviously a man behind that mask.

"If it's me you're worried about, that's very generous of you, but I've been brought up in this damn facility, and I've had medical training. If it's him, you don't have to worry at all. I'm not going to make him any worse than he is," she snapped, and the man gave her a dirty look, but didn't press the issue. However, nobody moved to operate.

After a few seconds, Elle let out a frustrated sigh and said, "Well, what the hell are you waiting for, he's not gunna wait all night!"

"We need Linderman's consent to save him. He's a dangerous man. This world might be a better place without him," the surgeon said.

"Wrong," a familiar voice said from behind her, and she whirled around to see her father, Bob Bishop, standing coolly in the doorway in front of Candice. His balding head reflected the bright lights of the operating room as he stared at the two doctors. However, he still had a commanding presence; one that couldn't be ignored if his eyes were on you. "Linderman's dead," he continued. "I own this Company now. You need _my _consent."

All three nurses and both doctors stared in disbelief for a second, then waited for his order. Elle sighed, and went to step toward her father, feeling Gabriel's hand tighten on her as her proximity threatened to detach their hands. So she didn't take another step, maintaining her hold on him as she spoke.

"Father, we can use him," she said. It wasn't the reasoning she would have used on herself, but she was sure her father wouldn't be swayed by her moral desire to save the man she turned into a monster. "We make him better, we can use that to our advantage. He'd be a powerful tool."

Bob thought for a second, then said, "You think a man like Sylar is going to be ethically compelled to repay a debt? He's a criminal, Elle, nothing more."

"Please try," she said, hoping it sounded like pure politeness and not begging, when begging was exactly what it was. "If it doesn't work out, this company is powerful enough to deal with it."

Bob thought, and he looked like he was going to deny her request.

"Alright, proceed," he said, absently waving a hand at the surgeons and nurses. Elle strongly resisted the urge to smile and bounce up and down, for this was definitely not the time or place. She nodded once in thanks to her father, and he backed from the room and disappeared around the corner, Candice following as he beckoned for her. Everyone bustled around immediately, but something else caught Elle's attention.

Gabriel's grip on her hand suddenly went limp, so she whipped her gaze to his face, her blonde hair flying with the motion. Just when she did, alarms and graphs on computers all around her suddenly went wild, blaring and flashing. Both surgeons looked at the computers, and one of them even muttered a "shit."

The heart rate monitor went from the usual rhythmic pattern to a sporadic sinking that really didn't follow a pattern. Gabriel began choking and coughing, and a steady flow of blood trickled from his trembling lips. Then his body sunk into a violent tremor, his face setting into a calm expression that just screamed "giving up."

"Left lung just collapsed. He can't breathe. I'll have to intibate. He's going into shock," the other surgeon said, stepping forward with a strange, long tube and turning his head to face the other. "Scalpel," he instructed. "Crack the chest."

The other surgeon stepped forward, but paused and looked up at Elle.

"It's not that we're worried about your well-being, because I really couldn't care less. But we need room to move around in here, and it's full enough with the five of us," he motioned to the other surgeon and nurses. "So please, if you wouldn't mind, leave."

Elle sighed, and squeezed Gabriel's hand one more time before turning to leave. He tried to hold on as long as possible, but it was like a child trying to hold on to a freight train.

The first time she met him, he'd been trying to kill himself. Now, he was in almost the same predicament. Why was it, that every time she saw him he was in pain?

And now, almost a year later as Noah Bennett walked out of the Canfield house carrying an injured Claire, Gabriel was in pain again. They had been through so much together in the past month, that she would gladly have forgotten all of it; the murder of her father by Gabriel himself, her imprisonment at Pinehearst, everything. But the one thing she didn't want to forget was how hard of a life Gabriel Gray had lived up to this point. Elle would give anything if his tortured soul could just find peace, but she wasn't the person that could grant such salvation. So she would have to settle with helping any way she could.

"Elle," he groaned, his hand shaking her shoulder. "Elle."

She became conscious slowly, her head aching from the hit to the head she'd received from Bennett. She moaned as she rolled over onto her back, meekly bringing a hand to her throbbing temple.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice crackly and uneven.

"Powers are gone," he replied, but she could hear utter agony in his voice. Her eyes snapped open, which made the throbbing worsen with the flooding of weak light. She sat up tentatively and looked over at him.

He was sprawled on the hardwood floor, his right hard firmly gripping his left shoulder, and he was panting heavily.

"You okay?" she asked, crawling closer to him.

He looked like he was going to nod "yes," but when he moved, he yelped and stilled.

"No," he managed, his eyes tight shut.

"Let me see," she said, crawling to his other side and reaching out.

The second she put her hands on him, he inhaled sharply, hissing between his teeth. But he didn't pull away from her, which was a pretty big deal for someone with major trust issues.

"I have to make sure it's not dislocated," she said, looking him in the eyes. "And it's probably going to hurt. Just try to be as still as possible."

He nodded, but she could clearly see fear lurking behind his endless brown eyes.

She used her thumb and pointer finger to analyze the joint, which he made quite clear was very painful. Sure enough, the humerus was completely dislodged from his scapula.

"It's dislocated, I'll have to set it," she said. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," he replied, and moved to sit up. He didn't use his left arm, but he still gasped as he moved, and almost fell back to the floor.

"Whoa," she said, catching his back. "Come on, I'll help you. Just go slow."

She looped an arm under his good shoulder and slowly helped him to his feet. He staggered, so she led him over to the kitchen counter.

"Brace on this," she said, and he put his good hand on the countertop.

However, she didn't just go for it. She pulled his face by the chin so he was looking directly at her.

"This is really going to hurt," she said, and he nodded and looked away, presumably to hide his reaction to that statement.

She angled her feet for leverage; same width as her shoulders, as she'd always been taught, and firmly put her left hand around the top of his shoulder, and her right on his back just to the right.

The first time she tried, she didn't push hard enough. Just hard enough to make him scream and double over forward, but she didn't want to stop now. She almost had it, she could feel it.

He screamed again as she tried a second time to no avail. She knew she could do it; she'd always been trained for things like this.

"Oh God, it hurts!" he cried, and she pushed him back against the wall, causing him to yelp.

She was surprised he would even speak the name of a being more powerful than himself, but she brushed it off. She had read his files before becoming involved with his life that very first time. She knew he had been raised Christian, like his mother. She didn't have the guts to ask him if he still had faith, but considering his actions and attitude, probably not.

"Well, it's gunna hurt forever if we can't set it," she said, repositioning her feet. "Quit being such a baby."

She leaned back, putting her whole body weight against him, and heaved.

It was a sickening crack, and she could feel the bones shifting under her fingers. He screamed again, this time sounding like he was nauseous. She didn't doubt that he might be, after that, so she let go as he collapsed forward against the countertop, grasping his left shoulder tightly and gasping for air.

He panted as he regained composure, and Elle finally let out a sigh, leaning back against the pillar behind her. Gabriel then snapped upright and outstretched his hand toward the gun she had dropped when Bennett hit her. He motioned for it, but nothing happened. He studied it, like a specimen under a microscope, then walked over to it, crouching down and picking it up.

"What's happening to us?" she asked.

"I have no idea," he said, panting and swallowing hard. "I used to understand everything, but," he paused raising upright and turning to her. "Nothing makes sense."

He held out his hands in a confused gesture, and said, "We're just human."

She would have thought such a prospect would have chilled him to the bone; he always wanted to be special, and now he wasn't. That was the troubling thing; he didn't seem to mind.

He set the gun on the counter opposite her, and held his injured shoulder, looking deep in thought.

"You okay with that?" she asked, exasperated.

"It's actually," he began, pausing to search for the right word. "A relief."

She raised her eyebrows, not believing a word she was hearing.

"I've felt the hunger. The need to have power, so numbing," he said, pushing off the counter as he spoke. "My mind felt like it was full of cotton and ice. But I haven't felt like this since…" he paused, looking her straight in the eyes. "Since I first met you."

The way he said it sent a warm, safe feeling through Elle's entire body. It was as if he appreciated her. No one, not even her father, had ever acted like they appreciated her. But Gabriel Gray… _Sylar_ had more reason to hate her than anyone.

She turned him into that power-hungry killer. It was _her _that encouraged such actions in the first place. Sure, she was ordered to do it, but she could have said no. She had _wanted_ to say no. Why was it always so hard for her to say no?

She sighed. "I pushed you to become that monster. It's my fault."

She sighed again, and his stare was so intense that she couldn't look at him anymore. It was like he was staring right into her core, her very soul. She turned away, taking a few steps from him, to escape that strange aura of "dangerous" he always gave off.

"No," he said, and it sounded anything but dangerous as he followed her, staying right at her back. "You were just following orders; a Company girl."

Yeah, like that righted all the wrongs she'd done in the name of the Company.

She whirled on him, her own soul-fueled fire working up. "Exactly. We're both so…"

"Powerless?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow and staring daggers into her.

She sighed in defeat. "We can't take what we want anymore."

He stared for a second, before his face set in determination. "Says who," he said, and it seemed like within seconds, he was right in front of her, his own body heat becoming hers.

He reached his hand behind her neck and pulled her close, but it wasn't in a territorial way, it was something else… need? He seemed anxious and urgent as his lips went for hers, but he didn't kiss her immediately. He just let his lips touch hers, testing how her skin felt against his. Then that urgency became real as he pulled her into a deep, warm kiss that felt like home.

She didn't know how to react. She definitely didn't want to pull away, but he surprised her so much that she didn't really kiss him back until he pulled her closer, their bodies becoming part of the kiss. She finally gave in, closing her eyes and kissing him back. And when she did, it became a whole new experience.

Her body felt alive; really alive for the very first time. No amount of electricity could do this to her, and she moaned into his lips.

That threw him into overdrive, and he stepped forward, deepening the angle of the kiss and wrapping both arms around her. She did the same, her own sense of urgency wracking her brain. Never before had she been number one in someone's life. Never before had someone wanted her, and only her. She sensed in Gabriel's tension that he wanted the exact same thing. It was like they both needed someone to forgive them, tell them it would all be okay. They both needed an escape.

The first time Elle met Sylar, he'd been trying to kill himself.


End file.
